“If this is too much, it’s fine, we don’t have to pretend anymore. I shouldn’t have asked you in the first place. It’s not like it’s even realistic. I’m shocked my family even believed me.”
He jolts up and stalks toward me. “Why because I’m just a stupid jock, right?”
“What?” I shriek a little too loud for the small space and wince. “No, I’ve seen the type of girls you’re usually with. Leggy, gorgeous, sorority types, girls that I’m nothing like. I go to classes, I tutor, I study, I read for fun when I have time and then I do it all over again. I’m just not your type.”
He doesn’t stop in front of me, instead, his hands cage me in against the office door. He looms over me, silencing my stammering rant. “Don’t do that. Don’t make yourself out to be something less than them because you’d rather take college seriously and not skate by on your looks.”
“Pfft, right like that’d be an option for me.”
The backs of his fingers whisper against my cheek. “You don’t see how beautiful you are, do you?” His eyes fall to my lips again, only this time my brain is too busy short-circuiting. I’m not anticipating the crash of his lips and my head hits the door. I wince slightly, but the dull ache is quickly replaced by the teasing of his tongue asking for permission. I’m just about to give in and relax into his passionate kiss, but pounding through the door I’m pressed up against scares me to death.
“It’s time for dinner, let’s go.” Damion’s dad voice is in full effect.
Rolling my eyes at his very inopportune interruption, Preston smiles at me, his tongue poking out quickly to swipe away the drop of blood from my accidental bite.
“We should probably go.” I tell him.
He nods in agreement. A beaming smile lights up his face, I turn quickly for the door to hide my own.
ChapterSeven
The grandfather clock chimes eight times. Damion plops down on the couch next to Nat, who’s watching a Christmas baking show while scrolling through her phone. “How many books was it tonight?” she asks without looking up.
“Oh, you know, the normal two somehow turned into four. I swear there’s a new book up there every time it’s my turn to put them to bed. Your parents are going to have to build them a library for all the books they send them.”
“Better than more toys,” I chime in. “Hey, do you guys mind if I take the truck out tonight? I was going to see if Preston wants to do the Santa Crawl.”
“What’s a Santa Crawl?” he asks from the doorway.
Damion laughs. “You want to go to that?”
“It’s a town tradition. I want to see what the fuss is all about. Plus, it’s the first year I finally can.”
Natalie nudges him in the ribs. “Let her go. They’ll have fun.”
“Fine, fine.” He throws his hands up in defeat, “Keys are on the counter. But, Clara, do not drink and drive. I mean it. If you’re both going to drink, I’d rather just take you and pick you up.”Oh, my sweet big brother, always looking out for me.
“I’ll DD if Clara wants to drink. That is, if you’re okay with me driving your truck?” Preston interjects helpfully.
“All right.” Damion shifts to look Preston up and down. “You’ll keep an eye on her.” It’s an order, not a question.
“Really, Damion?” I shake my head and give him a small smile. “I think I can take care of myself.” Leaning over the arm of the couch, I drop a quick kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry about me.”
“That’s never going to happen,” He reminds me, “You’ll see what I’m talking about once you get there.” He gives Natalie a knowing look, and she laughs.
I bounce up the stairs, two at a time, excited to get ready for a night out with Preston.
* * *
Preston leans into me as we make our way to the first bar of the night. The rowdy crowd can be heard from outside as we approach. I’m suddenly nervous about my decision to go bar hopping tonight.
“So, when are you going to tell me what this Santa Crawl thing is?”
“See for yourself.” Pulling open the door, we enter, and I sweep my arm out to display an eclectic collage of Santas.
There’s a hippie Santa in the corner playing pool with a group of equally festive patrons, a tropical Santa at the bar grabbing a tray of dark liquid shots from the bartender, and a hipster Santa on stage, singing Christmas karaoke with an angel. I look up at Preston and his face registers the effect of what we’ve just walked in on.
“Not what you were expecting?” I laugh.